How To Break A Heart
by northernexposure
Summary: Suddenly, hopelessly and wholly, Jenny knew why the party had been so poor.


How to Break a Heart

Nick/Jenny

Angst

Warning for slightly adult situation.

Author's note: Not a story full of Christmas cheer, I'm afraid… But it was just there.

***

Jenny stared at herself in the mirror. In the gloom of the bathroom's light her skin looked sallow, and her forehead was creased in a less-than-festive frown. Music, talk and laughter – the sounds of the ARC's Christmas party in full swing - spilled beneath the door, but she tuned it out. Jenny wished she hadn't come, but could think of no appropriate excuses.

Instead, she'd dragged out yet another little black silk dress and plastered her face with the requisite war paint. She'd smiled and talked her way through three courses of sub-standard lunch and failed to get drunk, while everyone else seemed well on their way to a good evening.

She wasn't sure what the problem was. Jenny was generally known as a perfectly able party creature. But today… today she just couldn't pull out the stops and relax. Today, she felt…

The door to the bathroom creaked open and a gust of louder medley rolled in. Jenny shook herself, reaching for her lipstick. _Snap out of it_, she instructed. _There's no need to look as sour as you feel. _

Pressing her lips together she stepped back and looked herself over, smoothing her hands over her hips. She wondered why she cared what she looked like when, at an event like this, looking anywhere halfway decent was asking for an acceptable mauling beneath one of the tired-looking bunches of mistletoe.

_God,_ she thought bitterly, _I hate these things. _

With a deep breath, she scooped up her purse and headed back into the fray. She needed another drink – no, make that _three_ more drinks. Sooner or later she was sure to catch up.

***

Nick stared morosely into his drink as Connor launched into another joke. The waitress still hadn't cleared away the last of the plates. Half-eaten food littered the table alongside the beer bottles and wine glasses. An abandoned cocktail, clearly ordered by someone too drunk to read the menu, had been rejected, probably because it was bright blue and smelled like aviation fuel. He'd picked up the umbrella that had adorned it, and was systematically breaking its balsa wood spines, one by one.

_God,_ he thought, _I hate these things. _

He looked up and saw Jenny across the room, pushing through the throngs of revellers towards her table. She hadn't been seated with the rest of them, evidently preferring Lester's company to theirs. He frowned as an arm snaked around her waist and she wrestled away from her would-be assailant. Her smile looked forced even from this distance. Maybe she wasn't having fun after all.

Not that he cared. He had enough problems of his own to worry about.

Stephen lurched towards them with another round of drinks. He'd seated himself next to Cutter from the beginning, and had been trying to make small talk. Nick wasn't sure what it was he wanted, or what he thought they could achieve here. He was still trying to pry himself from beneath the emotional rock-fall that had been precipitated by Helen's revelation of infidelity.

Across the room, Jenny made it to her table and sat down, only to be immediately pulled up again by some guy wanting a dance. He looked like an accountant. He certainly dressed like one. Nick watched her protest for several minutes before giving up and allowing herself to be dragged towards the small knot of dancers in the corner. He found himself watching her dress tighten across her hips, and abruptly looked away.

He tried to focus on the conversation around the table, but wasn't drunk enough to keep up. Abby was hitting Connor around the head for something he'd said, and Nick knew those two were heading for trouble of the Christmas party-induced type this evening.

But what the hell. They were adults. He had problems of his own to worry about.

His eyes slid back across the room, to Jenny, who was still grappling with the same guy. She seemed to be trying to hold him away from her, but had still had the smile on her face. That was Jenny, all right. She might be loathing every second, but she wasn't going to make unpleasantness for herself and tell him to piss off.

Nick missed Claudia. He wondered what she would have looked like today, if she'd still existed. The image of silk sliding across Jenny's hips spun back into his mind.

He looked back at the new drink that had appeared before him, and nodded his thanks to Stephen. Then he looked at his watch, which told him it was still too early to escape.

***

Jenny batted the guy's hand away from her backside for the third time and glanced towards the team's table. Maybe one of them would rescue her, if she could catch their eye? She'd had to dance two numbers with this ape already. Every time Jenny tried to extricate herself, he pulled her back. She didn't want to make a scene, but it was getting very tiresome. The guy could hardly focus, let alone dance. Though dancing, it was obvious, wasn't top of his priorities either.

She had wanted to eat with Cutter and the rest, but wasn't sure she would be welcome, and in the end Lester had engaged her in conversation about something – she couldn't remember what, now – as they were being seated. Jenny had found herself beside her boss, and flanked by three lab techs and had desperately wanted to be somewhere else. At least she would have had Abby to talk to, even if Cutter had avoided her like the plague.

Jenny fended off another grope and glanced towards their table again. This time, Nick was looking at her, and she raised her eyebrows in what she hoped was a 'save me' gesture. He didn't seem to get it, but met her eye with a blank stare before taking a drink from his full pint.

A moment later he was lost from view as her drunken partner spun her hard, jostling her against another pair of dancers.

"Sorry," she shouted over the melee, but she needn't have bothered. They couldn't hear her, and were too drunk to care.

The table came back into view but Nick was nowhere to be seen. She sighed inwardly, wishing she could catch Stephen's eye instead. He'd always seemed the more gentlemanly sort. Though, from the look of it, he was already three sheets to the wind and aiming for circumnavigation.

"Excuse me," said a voice in front of her, and suddenly her partner's hands were sliding reluctantly from her waist. Nick was at his shoulder, levering him away. "Can I cut in?"

Cutter pulled her towards him before the other guy had a chance to object, and Jenny watched him retreat, relieved.

"Oh god, thanks," she shouted to Nick.

He didn't say anything, but nodded and began to pull her towards the edge of throng and out of the way. She was suddenly aware of his hands on her, one arm wrapped tightly around her waist as he guided her through the gyrating crowd, the other resting on her hip. The silk slid against her thigh, and suddenly, unexpectedly, Jenny was breathless. She turned her head, without thinking, and pressed her forehead against Nick's shoulder. When she raised her head he was staring at her, eyes dark and unreadable.

They reached the relative space at the edge of the dance floor, and Nick dropped his arms, fingers whispering against her dress.

"You okay?" He asked, and she nodded.

They stood, inches apart, staring at each other, and suddenly, hopelessly and wholly, Jenny knew why the party had been so poor.

Nick glanced away, eyes searching the crowd blindly. He rubbed one hand against his temple, and took a breath. She saw the confusion on his face, and wondered if he saw the same on hers. Her heart was throbbing in her chest, and she could still feel the warmth his hands had left on her skin.

He wasn't even looking at her when he reached out and grasped her hand. Nick's fingers crushed around hers, and suddenly he was pulling her again, this time towards the exit.

***

His head spun, blood pounding in his ears as an insane euphoria engulfed him. Nick couldn't breathe, or hear, but he could feel. He could feel that silk beneath his fingers.

He didn't ask himself what he was doing, or why. Her fingers curled into his hand as he pulled her behind him. Nick pushed through the doors and the cold winter air blasted at him. He'd forgotten the weather outside, and he felt her bunch in shock at the chill. Nick didn't look back, but pulled her onwards. It was a few yards to the edge of the building and the darkened alley beyond.

Nick turned, suddenly, pushing her against the wall. Light spilled from the Christmas lights above, painting cherry-shaped daubs of colour on her skin. Even in the semi-darkness he could see her cheeks were flushed. Her eyes were wide, her breath coming short and shallow as she looked up at him.

He reached out, running his fingers over her from beneath her breasts to her hips. She gasped, and he kissed her, hard, spreading his hands between the wall and her buttocks. She pressed herself against him, and she must have been able to feel him through that thin, thin fabric. She pulled away momentarily, and met his gaze through half-closed lids. Nick reached up, pulling out the pin holding her hair in place, and ran his fingers through it as it cascaded over her shoulders. He stroked her neck and then followed with his lips, running his tongue over her clavicle as his hands slid down her thighs to the edge of her dress. He heard her moan, softly, against his ear as his fingers found the skin above her stocking.

Against her ear, he whispered something.

As soon as he'd said it he knew it was a mistake. A terrible, horrible, unforgivable mistake.

She froze, and he followed suit. A moment later, he felt her hands on his shoulders, pushing him away. He didn't resist, moving until they stood, feet apart. She stared out into the street, and he was shocked to see tears glimmer on her lashes.

"Jenny… Jenny, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry…"

Jenny shook her head in one defiant movement, forcing him into silence. He watched her, uneasy, unwilling to move.

They stood like that as the seconds stretched into minutes, until she reached up a hand to brush away the tears.

"I hate her," she said, finally in a voice barely above a whisper. "I hate her, and I don't know if she even exists."

[END]


End file.
